It's a Good Day to be a Pagan

Last night I shared a wonderful meal with friends. We talked about a variety of topics including our religious views. Our little group runs the range of atheist to Christian spiritual and guess what? We're all ok with that.

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It's what ya do.

The conversation did bring to mind a topic I've been grappling with regarding my choice of spirituality:

Why it and not others?

10. Women are Cool:  Unlike some other religions I tried on and discarded, paganism values women. Paganism never makes me feel as though I am supposed to be subservient to my husband, not allowed to lead other pagans, or in anyway property for someone to legislate or regulate.

9.  Sex is Good:  Paganism appreciates that sex is part of the natural state of being human. Expressions of sexuality should be viewed as bonding, loving, and wonderful rather than shameful or simply for procreational purposes. Sex is part of a healthy relationship and life. Deal with it.

8.  LGTB is Fine:  Paganism sees that issues of gender can be more complicated than just male or female. Gender identity is not the thing that should be dividing humanity because it is just the way things are. We need to accept that if we are ever going to move forward.

7.  No One Asks for my Money: Yeah, I have a bit of an issue with religions asking for money. While the intention is of course that money will go to charities and church services, I don't believe that's all it goes to. I know that some wealth of churches does come in the way of bequeaths after death, but still. My money and I am not giving it the church. I will give it charities they may or may have a hand in. I'm more comfortable with that arrangement than with tossing a few bucks in an envelope once a week.

6.  Dogma is What You Make It: I wrote about this aspect back in the early days of the blog. I don't have to big ol' rituals skyclad on a hilltop under the second blue moon that year with gilded altar cloths or any other nonsense I don't want to. Paganism allows me to reason for myself. If I choose to do a full blown ritual, I can. Or I can stand outside under a brilliant full moon and sigh in contentment for being alive.

5.  Paganism Digs Science:  In the world, you will find a crap ton of creation myths when you go looking for them. Some of them are really bizarre. Others are familiar. Still, they are myths. All of them. No one is more right than the other and paganism allows me to be a fan of Carl Sagan, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and Michio Kaku unapologetically.

4.  Paganism Smells Good:  It does. Frankincense, lavender, sandalwood are fantastic. I get to use them in ritual or out of ritual and they smell fucking amazing. Growing up, I couldn't stand the incense at mass most of the time because it was too strong and usually interfered with my ability to breathe. I don't know what exactly the blend was in that little gold censer, but I was always apprehensive about incense because of it. Imagine my surprise when I got my hand on Nag Champa the first time. It smelled good. That was it. My nose was hooked on paganism's aroma therapy.

3.  I get Yoga:  Eastern practices like yoga do not breed demons to set up a party condo in your fleshy vessel. Other beliefs and philosophies are not the work of Lucifer. I can use yoga when I sit at a desk too long. I can use it to alleviate headache pain. I can listen to a variety of world spiritual leaders without condemnation. I can use yoga and meditation to start my morning off in peaceful relaxation without fear for my immortal soul.

2.  Ritual When I Need It:  Rituals of any kind provide humans with some sense of meaning and predictability. Routines are soothing whether it is the order in which you lay your clothes out before you go to bed or if you wake up on Sunday morning and need to go sit in a pew somewhere. If I need to remind myself to look for the good things as I make the upcoming transition waiting for me, I can take action with a ritual. Which is what I did this past full moon. Hadn't done one in a while, but it felt good. Something definite in setting up, writing out words, spending time in quiet contemplation helps. 

1.  It's on Me: My goodness or badness is my own choosing. I can choose to be a good person because it is the right thing, or I can do it because someone told me to do it. I tend think this is one of the beyond the scope of religion items. Fear of damnation is probably a good technique to control people as are written laws against stealing or murder. However, not doing something harmful should always be the choice regardless for the  simple fact that it is the right thing to do. My life is mine to write and the choices I make affect the here and now, not my death or my my future incarnation. My choices affect my daily interactions with other people. I want those interactions to be good and that's not always easy. My lupus etc. is managed successfully most days because I choose to eat more good food and less stuff that makes me feel horrible, not because I whispered a few incantations. My transition next week feels a little lighter today not because I received a blessing from some deity in the sun and moon. I feel more at peace because I took time to pause, reflect, and suss out a deeper meaning that sets me at ease. I made a choice for my own good. Your spiritual or religious views should never lead you to commit murder or violence against another person including yourself. Paganism places the responsibility for my actions squarely on my shoulders without making me think I should control or be controlled by others. Just me making choices.

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It's not easy accepting responsibility for your own actions in the present. No blame. No easy absolution. Just you and me doing the best we can. We need to do better. We can do better. 

At the risk of blogging in memes, you know it's true.

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I Said No

Sometimes you gotta say no to stuff. As it stands and as most of you know, my life is busy and getting busier next week thanks to three jobs all demanding my time. Consequently, when an old acquaintance asked me to don the director's helm again for a playfestival, I had to say no.

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Sometimes you have to say no because you work hard already. Sometimes you need to say no because you need to survive. Sometimes it is a little bit of both.

I absolutely love theater. I do. I miss performing sometimes. It is difficult to explain to non-theater types how it feels to work closely with a group of people to develop a kickass show. Analyzing a script, being specific about choices and actions, delving into a character who is not anything like you, and then performing that hard work in front of an audience. Honestly, nothing on earth compares. 

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Ah! The glory of live theater.

On the whole, I do not miss doing theater in this town. Part of survival means to recognize and be honest with yourself about what you want. I know from past experience that I love theater and I love working with certain people in theater. I also know that sometimes theater around here breeds negativity and backbiting. Part of why I did my own shows a few years ago was to have positive experiences with theater. Experiences that did not fall into petty arguments or personal attacks. I'll be honest, I am not without blame when it comes to the pettiness. I didn't like myself when I worked with certain groups or people. I didn't like how I felt trying to navigate the crap, the arguments, the finances, or the personalities. Those were not my proudest times ever. I like to think I have grown since then, but I am also not all that eager to jump back in the deep end of the pool.

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There's never a No Diving sign when you need one.

Anyway, I didn't really like myself in the theater company of others and I didn't really like the actions of others in the theater including myself; hence, I said no. The decision felt good, but it also saddened me. It saddened me to realize that theater may be out of my life indefinitely. Belly dance feeds my need to perform, but it's not the same as Shakespeare. It is not Chekhov and it is not Ibsen.

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Ibsen. F*ck.

It's a thing. I mean, do you see his hair? Be honest.

F*ck.

Such a simple word, but so many conflicted emotions in just saying no this time. I know that right now, it was the right choice. However, I hope that somewhere down the line the time will be right for me to say yes to theater again. Now though, is not the time.

Escape

Last weekend I threw caution to the wind and ran for the hills. I had to unplug. I was spending too much time in front of the computer working. My eyes had glazed over. My laptop had begun to fuse with my quads. My right hand would continually search for a mouse that wasn't there as I tried to sleep at night. Poof had started headbutting me and looking at me with alarmed eyes until I would stop to do something other than type. I had to get away.
Getting away was a good thing. It gave me some much needed quiet time to contemplate the goodness in my life. My husband and I drummed and danced in the woods. I love that. We hiked up to a nearby waterfall and continued on past it as other hikers turned back to descend the trail. I love that natural beauty is so close to my home. I don't have to drive but an hour to find such blissful beauty. We met a delightful little baby dipper who positively entertained us both.

Isn't he the cutest little ball of fluff?

We even did burpees in the woods. We're hardcore. Don't know what a burpee is? You're lucky. I didn't know what it was the first time I heard the name mentioned in the house. When my hubby defined the term for me, I said, "Fuck that shit."

Honestly, I still think, "Fuck that shit." I mean, do you see what these things are? It's like my PE teacher from elementary school took all of my least favorite exercises and mashed them together in one complete torture maneuver.

Now I am somehow wrapped up in a 90 day burpee challenge that involves adding one more burpee each day. Since it is the 14th, we did 14 burpees this morning. Despite the fact that my husband refers to my hop at the end as "cute," I have noticed that in my short time doing this that my quads are showing signs of definition, my butt jiggles only when I tell it to shimmy, and I can get to 10 without fatigue. Consequently, I am getting stronger, firmer and I made burpees my bitches in the woods.

I also remembered one of the reasons why I am able to do these fitness contrivances of evil. It's been 6 years since we quit smoking

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According to this, our stroke risk is the same as non-smokers now.

While we camped, we were treated to the visits of several birds including a mallard who just decided to drop in the little pool by our tent for a quick swim before bouncing along downstream. We had woodpeckers, finches, sparrows, a hummingbird, and I heard an owl as we adjourned to the tent the first night. The owl granted us a delightful serenade as we drifted off to sleep. How fortunate we were.

We got to read a lot, too. I haven't been able to read much since our last excursion, so it was refreshing to make some camping coffee and read while it brewed before the burpee madness.

I didn't miss my computer at all. I wonder how I will be able to adjust to my day job and my two side gigs once the end of August rolls around. I have instituted my morning yoga and meditation time again. My lower back and hip flexors were tightening up from sitting at the computer. I need to stretch my muscles and quiet my mind if I am going to survive the transition. I'm not being hyperbolic. Thinking about going back to my day job keeps my mind roaring in sleepless turmoil. I did some training this week and at night I feel all anxious thinking about returning. It doesn't help that already things regarding my job are a mess and unresolved. I had hoped for a better start, but things are just as frelled. 

zazzle.com

Way.

So for now, I cling to my good stuff like being smoke free for 6 years, living in a state with countless beauty, reading epic fantasy novels, and dancing. Speaking of, I have a performance tonight. I should probably do a little prep work on that.

zahras.com

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Cat Day

August 8 a.k.a. International Cat Day
I love my cat children. They each have their quirks, their style, and their cattitude to make them distinct and individual. I am sure that if they caught wind of the sharks having an entire week while they have only one day dedicated to them, they'd be irate. Of course, they probably feel as though they do not need to have an entire week as they have been ruling the human race since the time of antiquity. I'm sure they think our observing a cat day is quaint and cute as they plot new ways to wrap around our ankle and trip us or scout for the next best place to hack a furball.
Despite this, I do adore the little feline domesticuses. As I pondered their roles in our household yesterday, I thought of a poem by T.S. Eliot. I loved discussing this poem. I would have a picture of Poof on the wall behind me and I'd tell the story of how he came to be known as Poofus Ferocicus (it was a Gladiator thing). Then I'd pop up a picture of Hissy and recount how she was like a Tasmanian devil in the cat carrier when I brought her home so she totally earned the name Hissy Fit. Lastly, I would show a picture of Link and describe how he came to us from the local rescue group. He was supposed to be quiet. He's not. He loves to talk and sing opera in the basement. Then I'd open the conversation to the group to share. It was always a lovely conversation and an enjoyable hour. I miss seeing it on my to do list in the spring. I share it with you now in honor of those furry, mischievous, cuddly, and fierce felines we all love to serve.

The Naming Of Cats by T. S. Eliot

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey--
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter--
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

Forgiveness

Apparently today is International Forgiveness Day. Did you know that? If not for the Yogi of Facebook, I would be clueless on this. However, I must admit that I have been ruminating on the idea of forgiveness lately. Maybe it's all the Borgia my husband and I watched last week. All that sex and violence in the Vatican needing some serious atonement ya know? Whatever brought it into my mind, it has been knocking around for a while.
I am in awe of people who find the capacity to forgive egregious sins. Mavvy Stoddard for example. This woman stood at the trial of the man we know as the bald guy with the crazy eyes who shot Gabby Giffords, and she forgave him. You see, he also shot and killed Mavvy Stoddard's husband. Despite this, Mavvy said, "I forgive you." Somehow even though this man took her husband's life, Mavvy found it within her heart to forgive. I don't know if I could voice a forgiveness of my husband's murderer just months afterward. I'd like to think I could eventually, but forgiveness takes time. I'm not sure less than a year would get me there. Forgiveness has no timetable or deadline. I think the point about not letting others recreate the world in an ugly, dark, and terrifying way that reflects their twisted and vengeful viewpoint, probably is the concept to embrace. It's that don't-let-the-bastards-grind-you-down concept. I find Mavvy's capacity for forgiveness remarkable, encouraging, and inspiring. Her forgiveness is more powerful to me because unlike  Pope John Paul or even Ronald Regan who both forgave their would be assassins, Mavvy is just a woman. She's not the leader of the world's faithful Catholics and she is not the leader of the free world. While John Paul and Ronnie set a remarkable example, as leaders they were under a bit of obligation to walk the walk ya know? For the two of them though, it is their faith that led them to their understanding of forgiveness. They saw divine providence in their survival, whereas Mavvy's husband did not survive. She had to make sense of the loss as well as the conflict of knowing who was responsible for the murder without seeking divine intervention as encouragement, and she still came to the conclusion that forgiveness was more important. That leaves me speechless.
Whether it was her faith that brought her that understanding is irrelevant. She got there. That's what is important.
The alternative I believe is devastating to a person's well being and vitality. Harboring hateful thoughts about someone or something does nothing but churn your insides against you. I think forgiveness takes time and reflection. I think it is necessary. Without forgiveness, I envision a life of dystopic porportions. Happiness requires the capacity to forgive.
I also think forgiveness does not require forgetting. Just because I forgive someone does not mean I have to let him or her back into my life. I don't have to be chums with the guy stole all my stuff out of my car one Christmas. I can forgive that person without inviting him over for dinner. I can even forgive the guy who took a six year old's hand and put it down his pants to get a handjob, but that doesn't necessitate any more contact than that. I think forgiveness can have limits.
I examine my forgivness list sometimes. If I catch myself in a grumpy ass spiral, I stop to try and figure it out. Oddly, I forgive others much more readily than I forgive myself. I am not a mass murderer or would be assassin mind you, but if I hurt someone with my words or if I feel like I have harmed someone, I have a hard time forgiving my transgression. Even apologizing or seeking forgiveness for myself, does not always alleviate the burden. Finding that way to forgiveness is just as vital for self-forgiveness as it is for others. Anyway, if you've got any forgiveness to give, today's the appointed day for all the world to release and move on.
May you always find your way to forgiveness.
Remember:

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